When So Ga woke, the little house was filled with bright, yellow daylight. His mind was heavy with sleep, heavier than he was used to. And so for several minutes he lay staring at the swirling shadows on the ceiling trying to remember where he was. In the first instant that his eyes opened, he had expected to find the soft, green linen curtains of his wood paneled bed in his Little Palace. As the memories quickly returned with clarity, he recalled the events on the road and the deaths of his last two bodyswords. And then, at last, the shocking arrival of the beggar, Min La, who had saved him and then led him here.
Here, a little wooden house on the grounds of a temple.
Having reached this final piece of remembrance, he reached for the golden seal around his neck and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt it there, tucked under the crisp white inner golt in which he had slept.
He felt remarkably improved, better than he had since he had left his Little Palace. Seeing the bandage on his foot, he felt around the wound but found the pain to be almost entirely gone. His lungs and chest also felt refreshed. It filled him with relief to be able to draw a deep breath without pain.
A heavy brown golt hung on a wooden frame that stood next to the screen dividing his chamber from the rest of the house. Its sleeves were lined in matted black fur and the collar embroidered with black vines. Pulling it on, he found it to be a good fit, though the sleeves were a little long and the hem brushed the floor. Still, it was warm and clean and he was glad for it.
As he tied the waist, he heard the sound of quiet clinking coming from the other side of the screen. Stepping cautiously around it, he found the central part of the little house drenched in sunlight. It poured through the opened walls that overlooked the garden of herbs and pooled on the plain wooden floor, in patches on the painted white walls, and over the sitting figure of the beggar.
Min La, however, no longer looked anything at all like a beggar. He wore a fresh, clean golt and under it an inner golt of crisp white. His face and hair were clean and So Ga realized that the thin young man bore a noble appearance under the exhaustion, hunger, and wear of his pitiful existence. There was a severity to his features as well as a certain intelligence. His hair was long, which made So Ga wonder if he was tolibin.
He was sitting on a thick cushion in the middle of the room. A tray covered with a wooden dome was on the low table next to him. He paid little attention to it and instead was busying himself tending the low fire in the little ceramic stove. A kettle had begun to sputter on top of it, so he took it off. Steam rose in great clouds when he poured the hot water into the pot on the table.
Without looking up, Min La said, “You’re finally awake.”
So Ga approached the low table slowly. He felt a binding thread of familiarity with this stranger who had saved his life, but he also recalled the dying words of Hin Lan: “Be careful who you trust.”
The chill from the open wall ran over his bare feet, but then was quickly replaced by the warm glow emanating from the stove.
He asked, “How long have I slept?”
Min La finally looked at him. “Almost two days.” Then he gestured to the cushion on the other side of the table.
So Ga sat, tucking his feet under the hem of his golt to warm them.
“They brought this a little while ago.” Min La motioned to the covered tray. “I think you slept as long as they expected you to.”
“Where are we?”
“A temple. Do you not remember?”
So Ga nodded once. “I remember. What temple?”
“I think they call it Nídŏ1. It’s a temple to Énan and Héothenin.”
“Héothenin?”
Min La nodded.
So Ga thought for moment, then muttered, “I suppose that makes some sense.”
“How so?”
“The Lăsoth House favors Héothenin. Rensoth used to be a much larger city before Ŏno Soth was made the capital. Lăsoth has always unofficially controlled Rensoth. They must have had this temple built over a century ago.”
So Ga listened to himself say these words. What did it matter who built this temple? It could matter, it could determine whether or not they were safe here. But he was overthinking, again. He had a tendency to overthink when he was nervous. He knew why he was nervous, and it had nothing at all to do with the temple, but rather with Min La.
He needed to understand the young man who sat opposite him, to determine if he could be trusted. An endless stream of questions swirled in his mind. Why had the beggar come back to help him? Why had he not taken his gold and run? Who was he and where had he come from? How did he know how to use a bow so well? Why had he helped him? Why?
He didn’t know where or how to learn the answers to these questions. He didn’t know how to tell if Min La’s answers were the truth or not. He didn’t know how to tell if someone could be trusted. Though there were no blades pointed at him, he still felt fundamentally unsafe. Once again, it was his blindness that was making him so.
Min La took the cover off the tray and motioned to the meal. A set of wooden spoons sat nearby. So Ga nodded and reached for the smallest. The sight of all the food reminded him how hungry he was, and how long it had been since he had seen warm food. At least eating was simple enough. And he could think while he ate.
A dozen small white dishes were clustered together on the tray. There were small fried fishes that shone with oil, a bowl of steamed pumpkin that smelled of honey, mounded purple rice, several small servings of pickled vegetables, mushrooms, onions, cabbages. One bowl held three boiled eggs, the shells stained blue with a savory brew.
So Ga caught Min La eying the eggs, so he nudged the bowl closer. It felt like a gesture of kindness, like he thought he could make Min La his friend with this as if they were both children. But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple.
While Min La peeled an egg, So Ga started eating the rice. He slid closer to the stove so it could warm his face while the bowl warmed his hand. It tasted faintly sweet especially mixed with the soft orange flesh of the honey coated pumpkin. The two together were particularly comforting. For as long as the bowl of rice lasted, his mind was free of worries.
Min La, meanwhile, peeled his egg and ate it quietly. When the tea was ready, he poured a little for both of them and then sat sipping thoughtfully, staring at the fire.
At last, putting aside the empty rice bowl, So Ga studied Min La’s face. It was hard to say how old he was; So Ga suspected that he wasn’t much older than himself. His long nose with thin and sharp, his dark eyes small. Hunger and years of homelessness had made him lean, but he didn’t seem particularly weak. As before, So Ga perceived a certain depth to him. He seemed melancholy, but strong-willed. As much as So Ga was studying the young beggar, he suspected that Min La was also assessing him, but more subtly, almost secretly. As if he already knew more than he should or was willing to admit.
In time Min La seemed to grow irritated at the scrutiny. He said, “Ask what you want to ask.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
So Ga was surprised when Min La almost smiled. His eyes were dark and his demeanor cold, but something about the question seemed to amuse him.
“I slept almost as long as you did.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He said nothing.
“Why did you come back?”
“You should eat.”
“Why are you here still?”
Min La reached for another egg and started peeling it in little pieces, as if prolonging the process deliberately.
“You have your gold. Why did you come back?”
The fragments of eggshell made a clinking sound when he dropped them into the bowl. When the egg was peeled, he handed it to So Ga, who took it without thinking and then stared at it, surprised.
“We’ll leave after you’ve eaten.”
It took So Ga a moment to understand the meaning of the words. When he did, he gaped in astonishment.
“We?”
His hands free of labor, Min La had begun to rub his fingers. He looked at the fire and nodded.
He intended to help him. So Ga had not even asked and he had already decided to help him. But why? For money? He already had enough gold for a lifetime, or longer. What reason could possibly compel him to risk his life even further than he already had?
Before he could stop himself, So Ga asked, “Why would you help me?”
“Would you rather I didn’t?”
He considered at once the warning of Hin Lan and also the immense wave of relief he had felt when he had seen the beggar emerge in the clearing in the woods, bow in hand.
“It isn’t charity,” Min La said.
“My father will certainly reward you once I have returned to the Palace.”
He nodded. Then: “I do not want gold. Not more than I already have, anyway.”
So Ga had suspected as much. “What then?”
“I am Houseless, I’m sure you realize.”
He nodded once, a little embarrassed. He wasn’t sure how the Houseless felt about their position, precisely, but he suspected that they didn’t much like it to be pointed out.
“When I have returned you safely, that is what I want.”
“What is?”
“A House.”
Frowning at the little bowls of food, So Ga considered this. According to ancient custom, a Houseless person could not join a House, not exactly. They could marry into a House, and though they would not bear the Housename, their children would. Perhaps this was what he meant. But when So Ga suggested it, Min La shook his head.
“You mean you want to establish your own House?”
He nodded.
“But you are just one man.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“There has not been a new House established in almost a hundred years.”
“Is there a law against establishing a House?”
So Ga stopped and thought for moment. “I don’t think so.”
“And anyway, won’t you be king one day? Who would say no to the king?”
He bristled at that. It was precisely the kind of talk that had always been forbidden in the Little Palaces. Both because he had had to protect his identity and because it was deemed disrespectful to his royal father to the point of being seditious to suggest that he would do things differently from him. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
Min La smiled quietly as he refilled his teacup. “That is my condition,” he said. “If you agree, I will help you.”
“I cannot promise you anything on behalf of my father. I am not permitted to make—”
“Your word. All I need is your word. Unless that, too, is locked behind protocols.”
So Ga believed the young man likely understood how particular his request really was. But perhaps he didn’t understand how little power So Ga actually had. He didn’t feel comfortable promising him something that was only within his father’s power to grant. But he also knew that he needed Min La. Without his help he was alone. And alone, he would die probably even before he passed through the Rensoth city gates.
Bowing his head, he said, “I give you my word that I will do what I am able and permitted to do to grant your request.”
Min La watched him with interest, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he nodded. “Very well.”
So Ga had the strange sensation that this beggar did not particularly like him. Or at least, did not like part of him. Perhaps he bore resentment towards the Sona House for some reason, a reason related to his Houseless state, most likely. As he thought this, it also occurred to him that Min La might, in fact, intend him harm. The resentment he harbored might lead him to anger, to hatred, to violence. Even if he did not intend as much in this moment.
He should not trust him. He should guard himself carefully.
Presently, Min La said, “I understand who you are, but I do not take orders from you. We won’t survive long if you second guess every decision I make.”
So Ga nodded, “Alright.”
“We have a long journey ahead of us. It will go more smoothly this way.”
“Long? How long will it take us to get back to the capital?”
“We aren’t going back to the capital.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your guards were right. Without an army, you’ll never make it. You need you father’s men at Osa Gate.”
So Ga blinked in surprise. “Osa Gate? Not the Palace?”
“The two of us will never make it to the Palace. There are too many of them. And—” But he stopped and squinted at the brightly-lit garden. A cool breeze moved between them, nudging the egg shells in their bowl.
“Osa Gate is over a hundred miles away,” So Ga said. “That journey will take weeks. They will think I’m dead.”
He nodded. “If we’re lucky.”
“I mean the Palace, my father’s court. The court might be thrown into chaos if they think I’m dead. You don’t understand. He will be seen to have no heir.”
“I don’t think the court knows what happened.”
So Ga blinked. The uneaten, peeled egg cooled in his hand. Min La motioned to it, but So Ga said, “What do you mean?”
“There has been no news of an attack in the Palace. If the court knew, the capital would know. If the capital knew, Rensoth would know. I think your father is keeping the matter secret.”
So Ga considered this. “Even if that were true, he cannot keep it secret forever. Not for weeks.”
Min La shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll never make it to the Palace without help.”
“For that matter,” So Ga argued, “we’ll never make it to Osa Gate without help. What’s the difference if we go there or go back to the capital?”
Min La seemed annoyed, but took a breath. “They will not expect us to go east instead of west. This will buy us some time. If we went back to the capital, we would not just have to contend with the ones guarding the roads. We must also fear the capital guards.”
When So Ga’s brow furrowed in confusion, Min La explained, “Your bodysword, Sen Rin, told me before he died. He said that one of the captains at the guard barracks was working with the mercenaries.” He shook his head. “If there’s one, there’s more. We cannot trust them. As far as I’m concerned, we can’t trust anyone.”
Such a strange thing to hear him say. As Min La said these words, So Ga found himself questioning his previous judgment. Maybe he was wrong, and this Houseless beggar did not resent him anymore than he might resent any other person in possession of a Housename. Min La’s words had also reminded him that Sen Rin had trusted him. It was true that there hadn’t been anyone else in that moment to whom Sen Rin could have entrusted the task of bringing So Ga his medicine, but he didn’t think that the shrewd royal guard would have risked exposing the prince’s whereabouts if he had had a reason to fear Min La. He wondered if Sen Rin had seen something that So Ga could not.
So Ga said, “You seem to know a great deal about the workings of the court.”
“Because I am Houseless I cannot know the ways of the world?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Min La smiled and continued rubbing his fingers. “As I said, this will be easier if you do not question everything I say.”
So Ga considered responding to that, but bit his tongue. This young Houseless beggar was quite unlike the bodyswords who had been guarding him all his life. Where they had adhered strictly to routine and protocols, Min La appeared to make no decision based on anything other than what was most likely to bring success. He knew that So Ga was the crown prince, yet he did not call him “Your Highness,” nor had he even once bowed or shown the usual etiquette. And So Ga had the sense that he knew the etiquette. But he also had the sense that Min La wasn’t neglecting the protocols out of disrespect, though it was difficult for So Ga to interpret it any other way. He wasn’t sure at all what motivated the young man. Behind his eyes was a dark wall that concealed his heart. So Ga had noticed it before in the abandoned farmhouse and saw it again now. There were depths to this young beggar that went beyond survival, food, and shelter. So Ga wondered if he would ever be permitted to see them. He could not help but want to understand the stranger who had taken it upon himself to save his life for seemingly no reason.
He wasn’t sure it would help, but perhaps if he offered familiarity, the cold young man would respond in kind.
So Ga put his hand on his chest and bowed. “I am So Ga Nă-Sona.”
Min La regarded him with some interest. Reaching for his half-empty teacup he nodded. “Be that as it may, out there you are not.” He pointed vaguely. So Ga understood.
“Who am I, then?”
“Your name is So Ga?”
The prince nodded once.
“Then you will be So Nan2. Even when we are alone I will only call you this or ‘my lord’. If we are asked, you are not a rich man’s son nor a Housemaster’s son. You are merely a young man traveling alone with a fellow Housemember who is acting as your bodysword at your mother’s request.”
“Which House?”
“Go Lán3,” he answered with even a pause to think.
“Does this House really exist?”
Min La nodded once. “They are a small but proud fishing House in Hin Dan.”
So Ga frowned. “What if we encounter someone who knows the Go Lán? Would it not be less risky for us to be Houseless?”
“I considered that,” Min La said. “But few will tolerate the company of the Houseless. It will make it difficult for us to travel with groups. It might even invite violence.”
So Ga felt a pang of compassion for Min La. “Is that what you do?” he asked. “You pretend to have a House?”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.
“Whenever I can,” Min La replied. His face had not changed. If he had taken offense at So Ga’s question, he did not show it. “But just as often being Houseless is also beneficial for a person in my position.”
“Of course.”
“And yours.”
So Ga nodded.
At that moment Min La stood, saying something about preparing for their departure and adding that So Ga should eat as much as he could.
At the door he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “It would be better, my lord, if you spoke as little as possible in the presence of others.”
An hour or so later, Min La returned to the little house. So Ga had finished eating and had been sipping warm water in front of the little stove waiting for him. He had found, to his personal disappointment, that he seemed to have settled into the idea of taking direction from Min La. It was impossible to know if he could be trusted. But it was impossible to survive long enough to return to the Palace without him. The reality was that So Ga had no choice.
No, that wasn’t quite right. He was choosing to trust him. Whether or not that choice was the right one, now that he had made it he had to commit to it.
When Min La returned he was accompanied by a young monk in brown who gave So Ga a small cloth sack. Looking inside he found food wrapped in paper parcels, a pair of worn gloves, and a blanket rolled into a tight log.
So Ga bowed his thanks and the monk left to wait on the porch.
“They would never say it,” Min La said quietly, “but I think they’re eager for us to be gone.”
So Ga nodded. He understood.
Taking out his slain bodyswords’ martial seals — which he had found wrapped in blue linen next to his bed — So Ga said, “There is one more thing I would like to do before we leave.”
Min La looked at him, then at the blue parcel in his hand. He nodded.
Having obtained permission from the monk who waited on the porch, So Ga brought his guards’ martial seals, still wrapped in blue, and buried them without ceremony near the orange trees. It had seemed to him as soon as he saw it that the fragrant grove was the perfect resting place for his bodyswords. As they had been martial men, he was confident that Énan would help convey them to Ávoth, even if their bodies were lost. The monks withdrew for the burial and so only Min La stood near So Ga to hear him murmur a prayer and a farewell.
Then, standing, he took up the bag they had given him, and the two of them left the temple just as the city was beginning to stir into life.
NIY-diy-yoh
(An interesting note for those who might be curious: “so” by itself is a root for “bird”, while “nan” by itself means “cliff”. Separately the name So Nan means nothing beyond the ideas in each root. “Ga”, by the way, means “wind”.)
Goh-LANE
I'm really loving the way the relationship is building between them I just know its going to get wholesome! Alsoo theres a typo near the beginning where you wrote 'So Go' instead of 'So Ga'
Each chapter is stronger than the prior one... excellent work. Thank you for sharing this with us.